


dangling by a thread from my head

by sparrellow (orphan_account)



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst, Conflict, Depression, Diary/Journal, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internal Conflict, Loss of Identity, Medical Conditions, Memory Loss, Memory Related, Mental Health Issues, Multi, POV First Person, Romance, Science Fiction, Suicide Attempt, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sparrellow
Summary: The truth was, I wasn’t Rin. I had her face, her voice, her hair, her laugh. I had her name, her life, her reputation. But I wasn’t her. I wasn’t that girl in the newspaper clippings, or the TV shows, or the music videos. That girl—she had died two years ago.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Kagamine Len, Hatsune Miku/Kaito, Kagamine Len/Kagamine Rin, Kagamine Rin/OLIVER
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34





	1. how lucky I feel

**Author's Note:**

> had this idea in my brain for uhhhh years? at least a couple of years. I tried writing the idea a very long time ago, but that draft is buried deep in the abyss of my goog docs and I *refuse* to go looking for it. the plot has changed a lot from the og idea, but I finally had an epiphany that just made me go "!!!!!!!!" and got me writing. oh boy tho, why am i adding another multi-chapter fic to my list of unfinished mc fics I am boo boo the fool.
> 
> this is a lot darker than my usual writing style, because i suck. at angst. and it's also first person which is a big EEEEEEEEE. I did the bare minimum of research for this. but this is fan fiction, I'm not getting paid to be scientifically accurate lmfao
> 
> before we start, though.
> 
> **trigger warning for lots of mentions of (a previous) suicide and self-harm, and heavy themes based on mental illness and identity problems.**
> 
> **note:** rin refers to herself a lot in third person. sorry in advance for the brain hurty.

_25/08/17_

how do you think my funeral will be held? do you think it’ll be solemn and glum, black suits and incense, and tears from my beloved? 

i don’t know how i want my death to be celebrated. i guess i want people to feel sad. i want people to remember me.

but it probably won’t matter, because i'll be dead. i won’t know the difference.

tell me, what does death feel like? is it like heaven, or is it like hell?

we’ll find out today i guess.

well, this is my last entry. it was nice knowing you, little diary. i hope they burn you along with my corpse.

\- rin

* * *

“I think you’re all right to go, Rin,” Doctor Yukari said, handing over my test results. “Everything has come back normal. You’re in tip top shape.”

I glanced down at the papers in my hands. It’d been at least six months or so of having blood sample after blood sample taken. My arms were covered in bruises constantly because of that. Yukari had always gone over the results with me; more often than not, there had been something amiss. This was the second time my results came through that didn’t cause a riot amongst the facility staff.

The first time was a few weeks ago, in which they said, _let’s do one more just in case_. I think no one was ever expecting my blood to come back somewhat normal, somewhat human—and yet, it did.

“Leon already knows about the results,” Yukari continued, beaming. “So I’m sure you know what’s coming next. Of course, I’ll see you every few months for checkups, to make sure your body is doing what it should be doing.”

I nodded, a sour taste in my mouth. _I’m sure you know what’s coming next_. I knew, of course I knew, they’d been aiming for it ever since I woke up from my procedure—it’d been something I’d had to work towards every day. But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for it at all. I never would be. 

“Are you excited?” she asked.

Excited? No. Nervous? As hell. I forced a well-practiced smile, something I’d learnt was better to do in order to avoid awkward situations. “Yeah.”

Yukari was satisfied with my response. “All your fans will be happy to see your return… and your friends, _well_ …” She trailed off, looking thoughtful. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you back, too.”

I noticed the hesitation in her voice, but I didn’t pry. In my heart, I already knew the reason. 

“Well, I’ll see you off, then. Let’s go over to the main building. Leon’s waiting for you.” Yukari stood from the desk and walked over to the door, beckoning me to follow.

I pushed myself up from the chair, knees trembling. I hoped she didn’t notice.

* * *

When we reached the main building of the facility, Yukari led me up to the top floor; Leon’s office. It was large, sleek and minimalist, accented with blacks and whites and wood tones. Leon was sitting at his desk by large windows that overlooked the suburban streets below, his brows furrowed in concentration. A brunette woman was in an armchair across from the desk, her back facing us.

My stomach flipped. I didn't recognise her.

Before letting me go, Yukari grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a quick hug. It was so fast I barely registered it happened. “Good luck out there, Rin,” she whispered, before leaving the office.

I stood in the entryway awkwardly until Leon instructed that I take a seat, waving me over.

The woman in the chair didn’t turn back to look as I approached. Her head was slightly bowed. She was dressed in a dark red suit, and had bold, shiny earrings dangling from her ears. Her hands were folded in her lap, long fingernails painted red to match her outfit.

I perched on the edge of the armchair beside hers, and she stiffened in my peripheral.

“Rin, this is Meiko,” Leon introduced, gesturing to the woman beside me. I took it as a chance to study her profile. “You’re colleagues. She’s an older Vocaloid, and your mentor. She’s come out today to see you and discuss some things about your next step.”

Meiko slowly turned her head to meet my gaze. She was a beautiful woman, with short, reddish-brown hair and soft brown eyes, looked to be in her 20s. Her name was familiar—I was certain that Rin had written about her in her diary before. She was nice, from what I could recall from reading.

Her eyes widened when she registered my face, and her skin went a few shades paler. 

A hefty silence followed, before I stuck out a sweaty hand, swallowing back the onslaught of nerves that were hitting me like a tsunami. “It’s nice to m— _see_ you again, Meiko.”

She eyed my hand as if it were made out of wasps, before reaching out to take it. Her fingers were ice cold. “It’s nice to see you… too, Rin.” As an afterthought, she added, “You look well.”

I forced another people-pleasing smile, not allowing anymore words to come from my mouth.

“As I mentioned before, Rin has no memory of her life before the accident,” Leon told Meiko. “So, to her, this feels like the first time she’s met you.”

Meiko’s fingers were gripping the fabric of her pants. I could tell there were words she was dying to say, but was biting them back. “Ye—yes.”

“I believe you were sent on behalf of Kiyoteru to handle everything from Rin moving into her accommodation and resuming work, to her lifestyle and such, no?” The corners of his eyes creased as his lips turned up into a polite smile. “Why don’t we skip the formalities, and just go straight to that?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yes… that sounds like a good idea.”

I was almost positive the woman was terrified of me. Her hands shook as she reached for the handbag at her feet, pulling out a stack of important-looking papers and books. She couldn’t even meet my eyes as she turned to face me.

Her voice was weak as she began to explain the documents she had—my apartment's lease, contracts, expectations, stipulations. Of course, I— _Rin—_ had probably already looked at these and signed them prior to the accident, but for legal reasons, we had to do the process all over again. Not that it mattered—I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and this was shedding some light on the situation a little.

I knew as much as what was written in her diary. I knew as much as the newspaper clippings, magazine articles, TV show interviews that featured her. She was a talented singer and performer—a Vocaloid. She had many adoring fans.

I knew that as soon as I walked out of this facility, I would have to fill the void that had been left by her suicide. There was a heavy weight, a heavy burden of expectations bearing down on my shoulders, and although the facility psychiatrist had warned me of what was to come, I was still scared.

Out of everyone, I knew the least about Rin Kagamine. But I _was_ Rin Kagamine.

The meeting with Meiko went for three hours. I was on the brink of falling asleep by the time we’d finished. The sun was setting behind Leon’s head, casting an orange hue into the office. He’d been nodding off for the past half-hour, unbeknownst to the lady across from him.

She fumbled with a big, decorated book, before handing it over to me. The cover was colourful; a bright yellow, with cute fruit-themed stickers slapped in random spots. _RIN_ was written in cursive in a little panel on the cover. It was heavy in my hands.

“This is a gift from us—the Vocaloids,” she said, eyes on her knees. “We figured you might need something to… remind you of us, a little. So Miku arranged a photo album of your memories. Some people left you little messages, as well.”

A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. This was a lot to digest.

Regardless, I made my lips turn up into a grin. “Thank you, Meiko. This means a lot.”

Her eyes glistened, before she blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. Feigning nonchalance, she started a conversation with Leon about something to do with transport and the day of my discharge.

Leon dismissed me with the wave of his hand while stifling a yawn, and I spluttered somewhat of a goodbye before escaping to my room.

* * *

_25/02/06_

miku’s such a bitch. i wish she’d shut up. she’s always on my case about appearance and reputation. always on my case about falling behind on schedules or not picking up the pace with work. i’m sorry i’m not perfect.

why does she have to bother me anyway? she has everything already.

she’s taken everything from me already.

\- rin

* * *

The album was thoughtful. I could tell whoever made it—Miku, based on what Meiko had said—had spent countless hours on it. Each page had a theme, a layout, paper cut and glued neatly into little frames around each photo.

The photos ranged from when I— _Rin—_ was young; a small girl with white-blonde hair, freckles from the sun and a cheeky grin. There were only a few of those, before they slowly shifted to my— _her—_ tween years. The other Vocaloids began to appear in the pictures, one by one.

I could list their names off the top of my head; Len, Miku, Meiko, Kaito, Luka… I knew their faces from all the articles and music videos and TV shows I’d seen, I knew _about_ them, but I didn’t know them like they knew me—or the girl I was pretending to be, at least.

They seemed close. The photos were happy, nostalgic. Everyone was candid and natural and it was all fun, all smiles. At least on the surface.

That Len boy, he was in a lot of photos. I guessed that he and I— _Rin—_ were friends. Though, several of her diary entries made me question that relationship.

When I reached the end of the album, there were a handful of notes taped to the back cover. The first was from Miku. Her handwriting was rounded and cute, which seemed to fit right in with the kind of person she appeared to be. 

_Rin,_ it read. _It’s been a long time. I hope you’ve been recovering well. I know things between us in the past were rocky, but I want to change that. So let’s do our best together! I look forward to seeing you again soon! Love, Miku._

Her message wasn’t much of a surprise—the way Rin wrote about Miku wasn't very kindly. I'd assumed they weren't friends. Which was strange, because in the photos, they seemed to be on good terms.

The other messages—from Meiko, Luka, Kaito—were much the same, wishing me well and saying that they were looking forward to working with me again. Polite, but somehow distant. I knew they knew that I wasn’t the Rin in those photos.

I put the album on one of the shelves in my room. This room had become home to me; although it was sterile and white, and I didn’t have much option for personalising it or doing any interior decorating, it was a safe space. It was a place where I didn’t have to think about the tests or the physiotherapy or the future or my identity. In this room, I was just myself.

Meiko’s reaction today made me even more anxious for what was to come. I knew that I would have to leave the facility, move into my own place; this was never truly a home to begin with. I knew that I would have to face the people I— _Rin—_ knew. I would have to face a past I didn’t know, and had no connection to.

It’d been a question burning on my tongue ever since I first woke up after the accident. Why didn’t they just let her die?

The truth was, I wasn’t Rin. I had her face, her voice, her hair, her laugh. I had her name, her life, her reputation. But I wasn’t her. I wasn’t that girl in the newspaper clippings, or the TV shows, or the music videos. That girl—she had died two years ago.

Rin was brain dead. She’d cut off her air circulation, hung herself from the curtain rail of her bedroom. By the time someone had found her, it was too late. Her heart only kept beating because she was hooked to a ventilator. She would never regain consciousness. 

I didn’t know the logistics of it all. The details. The doctors—they did something, I didn’t know what. Tampered with her head, put me inside instead. I wasn’t anyone before I became Rin—before I stole her life. I didn’t exist before then. 

Her friends, the people she loved, they all knew it, too. They had a right to know, after all. And Leon had told me that. He had told me that they knew the _real_ Rin had died. They couldn’t salvage her memories or anything, they couldn’t save her at all.

But I guess she did truly obtain what she wanted in the end. 

Freedom.

* * *

_25/01/23_

i was feeling sad today and kaito noticed. he brought me an ice-cream and we talked.

it was nice. i hadn’t opened up to anyone about things for a long time. not since len had started dating miku, at least.

he told me it was okay to cry. to be upset.

but even if i wanted to cry, i just can’t. crying won’t change anything, anyway.

i appreciated the comfort, even if the pain was only alleviated a little.

i cant wait to get out of here.

\- rin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter titles are lyrics from "watch me while I bloom" by hayley williams.


	2. to be in my body again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of hate this chapter ngl but im posting it anyway dfjjdjd. it's been sititng in my drafts for a while now so,

“Aren’t you hot in that, Rin?” Miriam, one of my nurses, asked while fetching a box from my room. She was referring to my shirt. It was long-sleeved and baggy, a bit ugly, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that my arms were a sight to behold, and given the situation I was in, I didn’t feel comfortable showing them off to everyone I was probably going to meet later that day. Bruises covered one half, and scars covered the other; the latter being a result of Rin trying to make herself bleed to death before suffocating herself instead.

I thought the nurse would get that, but apparently she didn’t, so I just shrugged my shoulders from where I was sprawled out on the bed. “It’s fine.” I had the air-conditioner blasting anyway.

“Well, it’s really hot today, so make sure you drink some water,” she said to me before leaving. 

Today was the day, the day I was supposed to move back into the Vocaloid apartments. Miriam was one of the people going to-and-from my room to bring my things downstairs, waiting to be collected when my 'ride' was going to come. 

Meiko had mentioned something about the ride being a limousine, and it felt a little absurd given the situation.

I stared down at the smartphone in my hand, bored. It was mine—well, Rin’s—but now mine. It still had the same background she’d set two years prior; a picture of her and Len, smiling. It looked like they were on set or shooting something. Len had his arm around my—her—shoulders. My—her—head was resting in the crook of his neck.

That Yamaha dude—Kiyoteru, was it?—the manager of the Vocaloids, or whatever, had sent a package last week containing her phone and a card with a message that was as generic as the rest of them. Apparently they’d just kept the thing all these years, and only decided to send it to me now.

I’d been through all the messages, mostly just fun banter between friends, and I’d scrolled through the thousands of photos she had saved—typical things a 16 year old superstar would save, I guessed. It was rather bland apart from that, nothing interesting or important for me to know (apart from the birthdays she had saved in her calendar). 

What was strange, if anything, was the fact that when I turned on the phone, she had about 60 missed calls from Len. No voice messages or anything. Just calls. 

Now I was just staring at my reflection in the dark screen mulling over what to do next. I considered messaging one of the people in her contact list, curious to see what would happen, but then, somewhat, I felt I would be meddling. _But you’re Rin now,_ a voice in my head said. _It isn’t meddling if you technically own this phone._

I didn’t know whether to trust the voice.

I’d tried offering to help move my things downstairs before—really, there wasn’t that much, anyway—but the nurses had told me to stay put and ‘take it easy’. So now I was just trying to kill time until someone came to pick me up. My belongings had already been packed away. I’d finished up all the ‘homework’ I’d been assigned by the facility staff. Now what?

Bored, I opened up the camera app and lifted the phone up above my head. The angle and position weren’t flattering, sure. I lifted my free hand to do a peace-sign, a half-assed smile, clicked the shutter button. First and last selfie in the facility. Why not?

The photo was gross, but I didn’t delete it. 

Then I tried accessing all the social media apps again. They’d all been logged out of—probably due to a long period of inactivity—and the problem was, I didn’t know the passwords. I wondered if Rin had saved them in her phone somewhere. Maybe I’d need to ask someone for the passwords. Did anyone else know them?

I had a look through her Notes app. Most of them were useless things like random links or some lyrics jotted down, or shopping lists. Finally, I reached one titled _PW_ , right down at the bottom of the list. Hmm.

I opened it, and up came a list of all her social media accounts and corresponding passwords. So she _did_ keep note of them. Not very securely, either, but I guess if she had been planning to kill herself for a long time, maybe it was done for this reason—so that someone could find it.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I tried her twitter account first. It opened. Her twitter feed loaded—she only followed other Vocaloids. It was a public account. She had _305,000_ followers. I almost dropped the phone on my face.

Scared by the audience, I exited out and tried the next SNS listed. Another twitter account. Huh.

I tried signing into that one. It was a locked account, only had five or six followers. Looking at the list, I had a feeling they were some Vocaloids. I spied an account that looked like Meiko’s, another Miku’s. The name of the account was ambiguous, the profile picture was blank. I looked at the previous tweets she had made.

_goodbye_

_has anyone seen my other sock? [picture attached]_

_my room smells like rotten mandarin._

Most of them were normal, sort of stupid tweets, besides the most recent one. The date: _August 17, 2025._ It was the same as her last diary entry.

The accounts she was following were still active. Someone had retweeted a video of a guy falling into a pool.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Should I tweet something? _Could_ I tweet something?

It was a private account, after all. It was technically mine, too. I could just tweet a ‘hello’. But then that sort of went badly with the previous ‘goodbye’. I could tweet song lyrics? Would that be too dramatic? I couldn’t even think of any off my head.

I could post that selfie I just took. Would it be strange?

_Yes. It would be strange._

Either way, my thumb tapped the ‘create a tweet’ icon. A box popped up. I went to my camera roll, selected the most recent picture. 

I stared at the screen for a while. What sort of caption should I put? _Just a selfie while waiting for my ride, lol._

That sounded ridiculous.

I tried a few things out. _Man it’s hot out today,_ and _This feels weird_ , and _The nurses won’t let me do anything and I’m so bored—_ all of which didn’t feel right. Eventually I just exited out of the app and set the phone down, closing my eyes.

Maybe it was better if I didn’t meddle with these things. It wasn’t my place, even though it technically was.

* * *

The ride to the company apartments was awkward and long. The driver for the limousine kept glancing at me in the rear view mirror, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

A representative from the Yamaha company—she introduced herself as Ia—came as well. She was completely neutral, almost uncomfortably serious, a clipboard tucked under one arm and a smartphone in one hand at all times. 

It was mostly silent between us. I snapped a few pictures of the trees outside, stared at my camera roll until I made myself carsick. My palms were sweating. A wave of nausea hit as we pulled into the car park of the apartment building, as suddenly, everything started to feel very _real_.

“Rin,” Ia said, nudging my arm. I was frozen in my seat as we pulled to a stop. “We’re here.” She gave me a strange look, before unbuckling her seat belt and getting out of the limousine. Gradually, I followed suit, my insides sloshing around uncomfortably.

Standing by the elevator of the car park were some familiar faces. I wasn't prepared in the least for this meeting, or anything that was going to happen next.

Breakfast was beginning to chug its way back up my digestive track. I avoided looking at them as Ia led me over to the crowd.

Their chatter died down as they spotted me, someone whispering, “Oh my god, it’s really her.”

 _No, it’s not,_ I wanted to say, but I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would almost certainly projectile vomit on everyone.

We stopped walking, and slowly, I forced myself to wrench my gaze up to their faces.

Meiko stood to the front, seeming to be the only person who wasn’t wearing an expression of horror. I recognised Miku beside her, who was smiling, but it looked more like a grimace. Kaito was standing behind them with his mouth hanging open. Luka had a hand over her mouth. Len, near the back, looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

My fight flight response made me want to bolt back to the limousine and hide. But my legs were rigid. I was anchored in place.

Ia cleared her throat, ignoring the tense air between us and launching into business-mode. “So, Rin’s things are in the trunk. She only has a few boxes—Kaito, Len, can you help take them upstairs to her apartment? Kiyoteru said we’re giving her the same apartment, so, you know where it is. Meiko, Miku, Luka—can you show Rin around? She'll need a reminder of where everything is.”

It was completely silent between the group. Apparently we hadn’t finished ogling at me yet, and I was feeling closer and closer to spiralling into madness at any moment.

Finally, Len spoke. “The same apartment,” he echoed, voice deep. His eyes were narrowed, fists curled in at his sides. His hands were trembling, red seeping up his neck and to his cheeks. “The _same_ apartment? Are you fucking—are you fucking _kidding_ me. Is this some sick fucking joke? What the fuck.”

“Len,” Kaito murmured, turning to the boy beside him. He reached out to touch his arm, but Len shrugged him off with a glare.

“ _Fuck off_ ,” he hissed. Everyone was turning with wide eyes, opening their mouths to alleviate the situation, but he took a step away from us, glowering. His eyes were glistening wet, and a terrible sensation pooled into the pit of my stomach. Before anyone could say anything more, he made a break for the stairs, something of a wail escaping from his lips.

The Vocaloids all exchanged concerned looks with each other, knowing something I didn’t.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Kaito was saying, when I started to notice my vision was going black and blotchy, the world swaying around me.

Oh no.

I remembered reaching out for Ia’s sleeve for balance, my fingers grazing soft fabric and fumbling for a grip, but then

* * *

I jolted awake to the sensation of something wet and cool pressed against my forehead, and a breeze fanning over my bare skin. 

While my vision was still coming clear, I heard someone talking in a hushed voice. “Yes—yes, she hit her head, but there’s no blood or anything—it wasn’t _too_ hard, I don’t think—”

A flash of teal caught my gaze and I blinked, Miku’s face hovering over me. She had a folding fan in one hand, lifted over my head. She noticed my eyes were open, and turned away, hissing, “Luka—Luka. She’s awake.”

Luka was standing aside, a phone pressed to one ear. “Oh. She’s woken up now. No, she hasn’t thrown up or anything—Miku, can you talk to her?—yeah, hold on—”

Miku looked back at me. “Rin,” she said, lifting her free hand to wave in front of my face, “are you alright? Can you hear me? Can you talk?”

I blinked, swallowing, trying to sit up. “Uh, yeah, yeah—” My head throbbed with the movement and I winced, falling back against whatever I was lying on. It was a couch. I realised I wasn’t in the car park anymore—but inside somewhere—a living room?

“You passed out,” Miku told me, eyebrows furrowing. “You went down like a domino. There was no blood—but we were worried you weren’t going to, like, wake up again—anyway, Kaito carried you upstairs and Luka’s calling your doctor now.”

She spoke fast. It hurt to keep up. 

“I’m sorry,” was all I could bring myself to say, my head aching too much to think of anything better. Five minutes into my first encounter with my so-called past life and I was already causing problems for everyone.

To make matters worse, I suddenly remembered Len’s reaction to everything and I—I just wanted the couch to swallow me up whole right then and there. This day had already become the epitome of a dumpster fire.

Miku opened her mouth to respond, but Luka cut in to talk, having finished her phone call. “The doctor is coming around soon to check on you, but she didn’t seem overly worried.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Miku said, shoulders relaxing. “Thank you for doing that, Luka.”

Luka shrugged, then focused her gaze on me. “No worries. How are you feeling, R— _Rin_?”

I pretended not to notice her stumble, the strange tone she had when she said my name. “My head feels very sore,” I answered with honesty. “But I’ve felt worse.”

It was then the pair cracked a bit of a smile. They hadn’t smiled at me since I got there.

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted our conversation, and both Luka and Miku glanced up in the direction they were coming from.

“How is she?” someone asked—Kaito, I remembered his voice from earlier.

“She’s awake,” Miku responded. Kaito and Meiko walked into view. Kaito was carrying a bundle of something bright-coloured—ice blocks, I recognised, a strange sense of nostalgia filling my chest.

He tossed one at me, it hitting my stomach, earning a disapproving look from Meiko. “Kaito, don’t just _throw_ things at her—”

“What, she’s fine,” he said with a toss of his shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. Meiko scowled. “Eat up, Rinnie.”

Everyone seemed to flinch at the nickname, including myself, but he was oblivious to it. “It’s an ice block,” Miku explained, taking one for herself from the pile in Kaito’s hands.

I bit back a witty _I know_ and reached for the cold treat, tearing the packet open to shove into my mouth. For some reason, something cold and wet was incredibly appealing at that moment.

The ice block was sweet, and it took me a second to register it was citrus-flavoured—orange? Lemon? No, mandarin. It was mandarin flavour.

Not thinking, I asked with my mouth full, “How did you know I like this flavour?”

Everyone stopped to look at me, expressions ranging from confusion to surprise to discomfort. Kaito, of course, was the only one who spoke up. “Uh,” he said, his smile slowly falling. “This… you, uh… You liked this flavour before, too, Rin.”

It was completely silent. 

My chest squeezed. I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. “Oh.” 

Miku’s eyes averted to her hands, and Luka sighed, folding her arms over her chest. Meiko seemed to shoot another _look_ at Kaito, communicating something silent but angry, and he sulked down into his ice-cream.

“Anyway,” Meiko said, shifting the air. “Let’s give Rin some space for the time being, shall we? You can all pester her with your presence later.”

Luka, Miku and Kaito all obeyed, mumbling something about her being bossy, and moved off to somewhere else within the building. She gave me a sad smile, before following off after them, leaving me alone on the couch to wallow in pity.

I wished I could close my eyes and wake up, and start the whole day over again.

* * *

_24/12/18_

len and miku are in love, and i can’t bring any part of myself to be happy for them.

they are permanently in each other’s arms, kissing and giggling like idiots, and it’s doing my head in.

i can’t even talk to len anymore—miku’s practically attached to his hip. and now that she’s the centre of his solar system, he barely acknowledges me.

i sound so petty but it sucks. it just hurts, you know? i thought i was more important than someone you’d just _forget_ about to him—yet we’d planned to play games on saturday and he didn’t even remember. he had already double booked himself to spend time with miku.

why does it feel like someone is crushing my heart in their hand.

\- rin


	3. how lovely I feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pushed myself to post this before my work week starts up again, since it was due for an update...  
> anyway, let me know what you think :)

Yukari checked my blood pressure and temperature and such, came to the conclusion that it was just from me overheating. She scolded me for my shirt, told me to change out of it, and gave me some electrolytes to drink to keep my fluids up.

Before she left, she cracked the joke, “You just missed me so much you had to make me come out here, didn’t you?”

I just rolled my eyes.

Miku had witnessed the exchange with a bewildered expression, walking into the living room just as she was leaving. “You two seem friendly,” she commented, coming over to sit on the couch beside me.

 _Well, yeah, she’s been stabbing me with needles for the past six months_. “I guess we are,” I mused.

Miku’s lips twitched. “So what did she say?”

“I just had a bit of heatstroke, or something like that.”

“Oh, good,” she said. Then she started to backtrack, her ears turning red. “I mean—uh, _oh, good_ as in—um, I’m glad it wasn’t anything more serious.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I got what you meant.”

Miku smiled back, wiping her hands down on her skirt. “Well, anyway. Are you alright to walk? I was supposed to show you around with Luka and Meiko, but umm, I don’t know where they’ve run off to…” She glanced around, as if expecting to summon them, but of course it was only us in the room. “So I guess it’ll be my own private tour?”

“I think I can walk,” I said, stretching out my legs in front of me before attempting to stand. It was fine—although the room spun a little. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Great! Okay, well, let’s get a move on then—” She grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the door. “So we were just in the main living room, like, our shared living room in other words—and this is the lobby, we’re on the first floor by the way—”

We walked into a large, spacious room with a high ceiling and marble floors. It was very chic, very modern, nothing less than what I expected for an apartment block built by one of the most successful record companies in Japan (and, perhaps, the world).

She jabbed a thumb in one direction, to a doorway across from us. “That over there is the shared kitchen. We use it when we want to have like, big dinners or something like that. Or when Kaito wants to cook, because he blew up his oven and Kiyoteru refuses to replace it.”

Huh. Okay.

Then she pointed at another doorway further down the same wall. “And that’s the shared dining room. It’s pretty huge. Over there—” Her hand went to a hallway next to some elevators. “—that takes you to the lobby toilet. Meiko likes to throw up there when she gets drunk, so avoid it when there’s alcohol around.”

Uh.

She dragged me over to the set of elevators at the back of the lobby, opposite the apartment entrance—which was sectioned off so that only someone with permission or a key could enter. Then we were inside the elevator, and she stabbed at the button for the fifth floor. The apartment only had ten floors—insinuating that other Vocaloids I hadn’t met yet lived there.

While we ascended, she explained very briefly that floor four and floor nine had recreational facilities. You know, a gym, a pool, a games room. I couldn't see myself ever using them, but good to know, I guess.

The doors opened with a _ding_ , and we walked out into a much smaller version of the lobby downstairs, with two doors opposite each other.

“The one on the left is Len’s apartment,” Miku said with a wave of her hand. “Yours is on the right. If you ever get confused, yours is the door with the dint in it because _one time_ , Rin—er, I mean _you—_ tried kicking it open while it was locked.”

Her talking speed was fast. I didn’t have much time to react to any of what she was saying, simply nodding and making grunts when necessary.

She fumbled in her pockets, unleashing a keycard which she flashed at me. “This is your key,” she said. “You don’t want to lose it because you won’t even be able to get into the building, let alone your apartment.”

Miku demonstrated unlocking the door for me, before dropping the card into my hands and pulling me inside.

The apartment was larger than I was expecting. Boxes of my things had been stacked in the hall by the entryway. The hall opened up into a large living area, complete with a snug kitchen, living room and small dining table for two. The far wall had a large window that opened up onto a little balcony.

It was decorated, sort of homely—lots of warm colours, like oranges and yellows, some papers and things scattered on the tabletops. I guessed they hadn’t touched it much since the accident, mostly left it as it was over the years. 

“Each apartment has their own kitchen, living room and whatever, so you don’t have to use the shared space downstairs if you don’t want to,” Miku was explaining, leading me through the middle of the apartment. The window looked out over a small park and some other apartment buildings. "We always have a Friday night movie night, though, if you ever want to hang with other people."

She led me through a doorway between the kitchen and living room, then went left into what appeared to be Rin’s— _my—_ bedroom.

The walls were a nice apricot colour, the carpet soft and fuzzy beneath my feet. The shelves and bookcase lining the walls were stuffed to the brim with trinkets and photos and bits and pieces. She had posters and fairy lights, and a pinboard covered with polaroids and purikura, hung up on the walls. 

Taking in my surroundings, her personality was really coming through.

A bed was pushed up into the corner of the room, and beside that, a window that wasn’t nearly as large as the window in the living room. The view wasn't much to sneeze at, either.

Miku stood in the centre of the room and held her arms out. “This is your bedroom. And uh, there are some stains on the carpet—” She walked over to the window, gesturing to a very slight discoloration on the floor with her toes. “—you kind of bled on the floor a bit, so um…”

My eyebrows went up, and almost unconsciously, I pulled my arms behind my back as if to hide the evidence such a thing ever happened.

Miku then lifted her head up to the curtain rail. “They went through and replaced all our curtain rails with a built-in system, because Kiyoteru realised it was a hazard after what you did.”

…Right. Rin— _I—_ hanged myself. From the curtain rail. In this room.

Then, almost dismissively, she shrugged and pulled me into the next room—a bathroom slash laundry. As she ran through how to use the washing machine and shower room, I couldn’t help but think back to what had happened earlier with Len. How he had reacted when Ia had told him and Kaito to move my boxes into this apartment.

I didn’t know much about the situation in detail, or about what had happened between him and Rin— _me_ —in the past. But obviously, he was against me moving back into the apartment for some reason. Was it because it was where… _Rin_ , the original Rin, the real Rin, had killed herself?

“Are you alright?” Miku asked, shaking me from my daze. She was looking at me with a concerned expression.

I plastered on a fake smile, feigning nonchalance. “Ah. Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. It’s just a lot of information at once.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t seem convinced, leading me out of the bathroom and back into the main living space. “You should take it easy for the rest of the afternoon, maybe unpack and stuff. You’re probably not feeling too great after what happened before.”

I fumbled with a loose thread dangling from my sleeve. “Yeah… I think I will.”

Miku was satisfied with my answer, but she hesitated, twisting a pigtail in her hands. There was something on her mind.

“You know… about Len,” she began. It was as if she'd read my thoughts. “He’s… Don’t take his behaviour today too personally. I think Ri— _your_ suicide… attempt affected him a lot more than he lets on.”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I swallowed. “Oh.”

There was a bitter curl to her lips. “He hasn’t opened up much since the incident, so no one really knows how he’s coping. It’s a work in progress. Just… give him time. He’ll come around.” Her last words wavered—she wasn’t as confident in them as she wanted it to seem. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said quietly.

Miku then gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, sensing my unease. She changed the topic. “Anyway, we’re going to have a bit of a welcome back party tonight, so you should come downstairs to the lobby around six.”

A welcome back party?

“O… okay.” Well, it was nice of them? But the thought of having to go and have dinner with a large group of people who knew me-but-not-really-me when I barely knew them made me want to pass out all over again.

She flashed a grin at me and reminded me of the time once more, before disappearing out the front door.

I remained standing in place a few moments after she’d left, staring at the space where she was just before, taking it all in. Had I even processed half of the information she’d jabbered at me? I couldn’t even remember which button she told me to press to start the washing machine.

Whatever. I pressed my palms into my eyes and sighed, trying to clear my head. I shouldn’t think about it anymore. About Len. Or the suicide. Or anything. I should just unpack.

* * *

_23/03/14_

first diary entry! 

i’m not one to write diaries, but len bought this for my birthday last year and i totally forgot about it until i found it while packing recently. he’ll be happy to know i’m writing in it. and will probably try to read it. LEN IF YOU’RE READING THIS I WILL CUT OUT YOUR ESOPHAGUS WITH A BUTTER KNIFE I SWEAR TO GOD

today i went to my singing lesson. the teacher made me do my scales _ten times_ because i kept going off tune. len kept laughing at me. jerk. 

then len and i went to gusto and shared a chocolate banana parfait. really wish they’d bring back the mandarin flavour one :(

tomorrow i have to go to the recording studio to record for my new single. and i have three assignments due. ew

anyway. that’s all i have to write about.

bye diary!

\- rin

* * *

While putting away my things, I spent a lot of time getting distracted by what I found in Rin’s— _my—_ room.

She had an interesting taste in clothes. A lot of bright-coloured cropped shirts and short-shorts and high socks; I was taken aback by the contrast of my own style with hers. It wasn’t bad. It was just… irony aside, something I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.

There were a lot of photos… a lot. I didn’t mean just on her walls, but in her drawers, as well. While trying to find somewhere to put my stacks of medication, I stumbled across what seemed like a stash of pictures of Len and her. It wasn’t even like she’d been trying to hide them, or anything; just like they were shoved in there, just trying to put them anywhere.

A sour taste filled my mouth, sifting through the contents of the drawer, curiosity getting the better of me. I did find it odd at first that a lot of the pictures on display in her room didn’t really have much of Len in them, considering they were, somewhat, friends, but then again…

An envelope slipped out from underneath the mound of photos. It was soft pink, small, wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular. I fiddled with the corner of it, a part of me considering whether it was my business to look or not.

Well, who cared?

I pulled out the letter. It was written on cute notepad paper, the kind you’d find at the dollar store. At the top of the paper was Len’s name written in amongst little hearts.

Oh boy.

It was something I shouldn’t have been prying in, I knew, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away as I read through the letter. 

_I know it’s not like me to do something like this_ , it read. _And I feel a little stupid doing this, but it’s the only way I can say this sort of thing._

_I’m in love with you._

_I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I know you don’t feel the same, I know your heart belongs to someone else._

_But I’ve been holding onto this for years and it’s killing me softly. I don’t want anything to change between us. I just wanted you to know. I’m sorry._

_Rin_

It was strange reading such heavy words I had no emotional connection to, let alone any memory of writing in the first place, but my name being signed at the end of the letter. It was clear the letter never made it to Len. I wondered what made Rin change her mind.

I put it back in place under the pile of photos, checking the time on the clock on the bedside table. 6:15.

_6:15._

I kicked the drawer shut with my knee and scrambled to grab my phone and key. I didn’t realise how late it’d gotten. Miku was probably thinking I’d bailed, or something.

When the elevator doors opened to go downstairs, I almost walked into Kaito, who was just as surprised to see me. 

“Rinnie!” he said, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me into the elevator. “I was just coming to get you.” He punched the button for the first floor. 

I wanted to wince at the nickname. “Ah. Yeah. I accidentally lost track of time…” _Looking at things I shouldn’t have._

“We thought so,” he said, eyes creasing. 

He led me to the main dining room, where a crowd of both familiar and unfamiliar faces were gathered around the table, chatting. There were about eight or so people in the room.

Miku spotted us walking in and waved me over, her eyes twinkling. “Kaito found you! Good. I’m _so_ hungry.”

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realise the time.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s fine. You’re here now. Let’s eat.”

She steered me towards an empty space at the table between Kaito and a girl who I wasn't familiar with, before disappearing off to do something else. The girl craned her head to look at me and introduced herself as Gumi.

The name didn’t ring a bell, so I asked carefully, “Have we met before?”

Gumi shook her head, short green hair flying around with the movement. “No. I’m a bit of a newbie—well, not new, but… I debuted last year.”

“Oh.” That was a relief. Finally, someone who didn’t know me as much as I knew them. “How are you liking it?”

She kind of tossed her hands about, screwing up her face in thought. “It’s alright. A little hectic. I’m kind of an outlier here, though. I’m not as busy as Miku or Len or whatever.”

Huh. 

“Speaking of Len,” a voice said across from us, having eavesdropped our small talk. We turned our heads to look—it was Luka, her eyes narrowed. She was setting the table, laying out chopsticks in front of every seat. “Have you seen that boy anywhere? He knew this was happening so he has no excuse to not be here.”

Gumi and I shook our heads, but Kaito piped up with, “Yeah. I texted him. He’s not coming.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Luka scowled. “That boy.” Exasperated, she turned away to call out, “Miku?”

Miku was bringing in a tray of drinks, tongue sticking out in concentration. Her head bobbed up, the glasses on the tray clattering with the sudden movement. “Yeah?”

“Can you drag Len’s sorry ass down here?” Luka asked.

Miku’s mouth opened and she looked like she might object, but hesitated, placing the drinks down on the table. “I…” She sighed, reaching up to tighten one of her pigtails. Her eyebrows furrowed as her gaze darted between Luka and me. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

When Miku left, Kaito said to Luka, “That’s cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” Luka shot back, folding her arms over her chest. “You know that he won’t listen to anyone else but her.”

Kaito frowned, but he didn’t say anything else, and watched in pensive silence as she strutted out of the dining room with a huff. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t voice.

I glanced at Gumi, wanting to ask for context, but she just shrugged her shoulders at me and reached for her glass of water. I sunk back in my chair, knowing all too well Len’s absence had something to do with me.

Meiko and Luka returned to the dining room to set down several dishes on the table—a large plate of assorted sushi, a bowl of salad, a platter of vegetable tempura, another platter of friend-somethings…

My mouth was watering. I didn't notice the angry growl of my stomach until then, too absorbed by Rin's secrets beforehand to even think about it.

As the last of the food was placed out and everyone began helping themselves to the dishes, Miku walked into the room with Len trailing behind, looking like he’d rather be thrown into shark-infested waters than be in the same room as me. She attempted to say something to him, but he shouldered her off and took a seat at the far end of the table.

His eyes wandered over the room, before stopping on me. His expression turned sour, and I dropped my gaze, not confident enough to challenge him after all that had happened today.

My appetite left the situation quicker than a deadbeat father.

For most of the dinner, I picked at the food on my plate and listened to the conversations around me.

Gumi, Kaito and Miku tried multiple times to include me in whatever they were discussing, asking things like, “How about you, Rin?” or, “What do you think?” But soon after I gave an answer, I’d just fade into the background again.

Len spent a good portion of the evening glaring at me, rather than being sociable. He hadn’t even made an attempt to eat, sulking, and every time I glanced his way, he would look down at his phone and pretend he hadn’t been shooting imaginary lasers into the side of my head moments before.

The voices, the laughter, the sounds of clinking plates, the heavy presence across the table—all were overwhelming. 

Eventually, I just needed out.

I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, and walked out of the dining room as fast as I could without making anyone suspicious.


	4. not to have to pretend

_25/02/14_

i thought i’d have the courage today to finally do it. to tell len how i felt.

and even though i’d prepared a letter and everything, i didn’t have the heart to give it to him.

when i saw him smiling with miku today, in each others’ arms, a part of me didn’t want to disturb that.

i knew that the confession would only cause trouble. love always causes trouble.

i put the letter away for another day.

maybe i’d have the courage one day to say something. but right now…

i don’t want to think about it anymore.

goodnight. 

\- rin

* * *

I had assumed some sort of fetal position on the lid of the toilet to calm down the violent churn of my stomach. The walls of the lobby bathroom were painted a mint green, and the tiles off-white, arranged in a grid-like pattern. I traced shapes in the grout between each tile, counted to ten, and exhaled. 

Back when I’d first woke up, it was all very overwhelming. I didn’t know much of what was happening; I was confused, in pain, forced to sit through a lot of mentally and physically challenging tests to gage the state of my body, and so on. 

A psychiatrist had been appointed to me after I had several panic attacks. She’d taught me several techniques to stop myself from panicking—and those were all I had with me in this situation. 

I didn’t know how many minutes had passed until I heard someone walk into the bathroom, calling out my name. I unravelled myself from the toilet lid and unlatched the door to my stall, peering around it to see Meiko.

She spotted me and walked over, concern sweeping her features. “Are you alright? You’ve been gone for a while now and Gumi said you went to the bathroom.” She studied my face, frowning. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, but my voice betrayed me, coming out as a squeak.

“Are you feeling unwell again?” Meiko asked, not believing my words. “Do you want me to call your doctor?”

I shook my head no. I’d already caused enough drama for the day. “I’m feeling okay,” I lied, stepping out of the stall. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows met, a look of understanding washing over her. “Yeah… I guess you would be.”

“Don’t you… Isn’t this just weird for you guys?” I found myself asking, the words tumbling out of my mouth with little thought.

Meiko blinked, surprised by the question. She paused to think, looking away from me. “Well… yes, it’s weird. I’ll be honest with you—it’s weird.”

My heart jumped to my throat, not liking her response. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, afraid it might spill out everywhere. Of course I knew the answer already, but hearing it did little to calm my nerves about the situation. Why did I even ask the question?

She sensed my discomfort and quickly added, “But… I think most of us are willing to give this whole thing a go. We’re willing to, you know, make it work.”

Of course, not everyone was happy with it. Namely Len. But did anyone have a say in this? Did anyone want this sort of thing to happen? I know I didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I said, staring down at the tiles between us. The heat was climbing to my cheeks. “This is probably so hard for everyone.”

Meiko’s expression softened, and she reached out to touch my shoulder. Her hand was warm. “Why are you apologising, Rin?” she asked, her voice gentle. “This is hard for you too, isn’t it?”

Her questions made my eyes blur with tears, and I tried to blink them away before she’d notice. It was hard. It was _really_ hard. I wanted to scream that out at the top of my lungs. The past six months had been steep hill after steep hill. I felt like I was trying to reach the summit of a mountain, but the more I climbed, the further away the end seemed.

I couldn’t get any words out. She’d stunned me silent. She squeezed my shoulder, not waiting for a response. Maybe she knew I was having trouble.

“Do you think you can come back for a while?” she asked. “We still have dessert left.”

A lump in my throat, I just nodded, keeping my head down. 

“We have mandarin-flavoured macarons, you know,” Meiko told me as we left the bathroom. “They used to be your favourite.”

I met her gaze and she offered a smile. Somehow, I found myself smiling back.

She was nice, I decided. She was really nice.

* * *

I was lying with my back against my bedroom floor, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark—pitch black—and eerily silent. An unsettling sensation sunk in my chest while I registered my surroundings.

My eyes caught movement from the window overhead. I thought maybe it was the curtain, my imagination. But then, much to my demise, I was startled by the sound of something wet hitting the carpet. 

_Drip, drip, drip_ , it went. _Drip, drip, drip._

I didn’t want to look for it, but I had to. I just had to. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up from the ground. My body groaned in protest. The room wobbled, the walls melted, as I turned to face the source of the noise—the window.

A scream caught in my throat as I came face to face with myself.

—But it wasn’t me.

She was slumped, dangling, hanging by a rope. Her skin was pale, lifeless. Her blonde hair matted, wet with something dark. A familiar metallic scent clung to my nose, a hard weight sinking heavy on my shoulders.

I was frozen in place.

Slowly, slowly, with a haunting creak, the body began to lift its head. Hollow blue eyes met mine. Blood trickled from her lips, stretching into a horrifying grin.

 _Run,_ my instinct yelled. _Run._

But I couldn’t. My feet were sinking into the carpet, going deeper and deeper and deeper until it was up around my ankles.

When I looked back at her, she’d moved away from the window, taken a step towards me. She twitched, shuddered, hands reaching out in front of her. Before I could even register what was happening, she wrapped her ice-cold fingers around my neck.

“Die,” she whispered. “Die, die, die.”

I choked, gasped, hands flying up to claw at her arms. 

Rin glowered at me through the darkness. “Why won’t you just _die?_ ”

 _I don’t know,_ I wanted to cry. _I don’t know, please let me go. Please let me go._

But she didn’t. Her grip tightened, and my lungs were burning, and pain was tearing through my chest.

Just as I was losing consciousness—just as I was slipping into darkness, I jolted awake, dripping with a cold sweat.

Immediately, I sat up in my bed, eyes darting to the window on my right. It was fine, though. There was no one there. There was no corpse hanging from the rail, there was nothing at all. Just the curtain blowing slightly from the fan of the air conditioner.

I couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after that dream. I crawled out from under the sheets and found my key, heading for the door of the apartment. 

My refrigerator was still in a stale and empty state; I hadn’t yet managed to go shopping for any food yet. The past few days had been strange and busy, occupied with a lot of introductory things and settling in. Most nights I’d been exhausted enough to get off to sleep, and _stay_ asleep, but tonight was the exception.

I was still trembling from the dream as I made it downstairs and wandered into the shared kitchen. My throat hurt. My head was spinning. It all felt very real, that dream.

When I had nightmares back in the facility, I always raided the refrigerator for something sweet to take my mind off it. I hoped the shared fridge had something I could take—and I hoped nobody would mind me doing so. 

Thankfully, there was a half-empty carton of orange juice in the door. That was about it, but it would suffice. I checked to make sure it was still drinkable, then poured myself a glass and took a sip. It was tangy and fresh, helped ease the dryness in my mouth.

I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and looked out the window above the kitchen sink. 

The view was kind of bland—overlooking a residential car park, nestled between other apartment buildings. But there were twinkling skyscrapers in the distance, peeking over the top of the surrounding apartments. They were sort of mesmerising against the dark, early morning sky.

While I was staring out the window, someone walked into the kitchen behind me. Almost dropping my glass in the process, I spun around to face them, like a criminal caught in the act.

It was… Len.

Oh no.

He looked somewhat surprised to see me, before his expression settled into something that of a glare. He stood in the doorway like a statue, hands balled in at his sides.

The trembling was back again.

I didn’t know why _he_ had come down to the kitchen at five in the morning, but I felt that if I tried asking the question, he probably wouldn’t give an answer. In the few days I’d been at the apartment, he hadn’t spoken a single word to me—only communicating in glares. Everyone else had been rather apologetic about it, saying he wasn’t usually so… unfriendly.

But he had his reasons. I knew that. I knew as much as that.

After staring at each other in complete and utter silence, I finally lowered my cup from my lips to ask, “Uh… am I… doing something wrong?”

Well, was I? Was there a rule I wasn’t supposed to be here, drinking orange juice in the middle of the night? I had no idea, and maybe he was just… standing there to let me know. Who knew. 

Len looked as if he might answer, his mouth opening, closing, before he squared his jaw and shifted his gaze to the floor between us. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I stared at the empty space he left in the doorway, wondering what was on his mind. What he wanted to say, but couldn’t. It was strange. _He_ was strange. But I was trying so hard not to make that my final judgement of him.

After I finished the juice, I washed up my glass and made my way back upstairs. By this time, the sun was already beginning to rise, turning the sky outside a deep blue. 

I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I just curled up on the couch and watched morning TV until it was time for me to get started with the day.

The feeling of her hands closed around my neck lingered like a bad smell.

* * *

_25/08/14_

it’s my fault. it’s all my fault. i’m such an idiot, i am.

i should’ve kept my mouth shut. all i ever do is ruin things. i tried to say something, but it all came out so hot and angry, it was just all yelling.

len was so pissed. he wouldn’t look at me. told me that he was sick of me. sick of my shit.

i know it. i know. i’m sick of me too. i’m just so, so sick.

but it’s okay. i’ll make things better, len. i’ll make them all better for you. and you won’t have to deal with me anymore.

\- rin

* * *

The following day, all the Vocaloids were called into HQ for a meeting.

“Ooh,” Miku said as we all filed into a large limousine. She waggled her eyebrows at me. “It’s your first official meeting in two years.”

We were sitting bumper to bumper, shoulders pressed against each other. I was squished between Meiko and Luka, who were communicating in silent looks with one another. Miku was across from me. Len, too, but he had his head down and earphones in, ignoring everyone around him.

“Is there anything I should know about the meeting?” I asked. “Like, is there some… pledge we have to do before the meeting… or some anthem. I don’t know.”

Everyone exchanged looks, amused.

“No,” Miku answered, smirking. “Well, we only get a bathroom break every hour, so don’t drink too much tea or coffee.”

Well, I wasn't much of a drinker of either, honestly. “Duly noted. How long is the meeting, usually?”

“Around three hours or so,” Luka said. 

Kaito groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.” His peers tittered, sharing empathetic looks. Everyone felt the same as he did, apparently.

Three hours didn’t sound optimal, but I decided it could’ve been worse. 

The ride to Yamaha Co.’s HQ was long. Most people around me had found their own discussions, besides Len, who was keeping to himself. I just listened to Meiko and Luka’s animated conversation over my head.

HQ was quite impressive. A tall, sleek office building in the middle of downtown Tokyo, with tinted-dark windows and a modern design. The style was a little reminiscent of the apartment, actually, and the main lobby had some familiar elements. We all got ID’d at the front desk, before piling into one of the flashy elevators on the far side of the room. It had a touch screen and an elaborate button system, bright white lights illuminating the inside.

When we arrived at the conference room on the 33rd floor, a lean, middle-aged man greeted us with a smile from the meeting table. He wore a navy pressed suit and designer glasses, was clean shaven. I immediately recognised him as the guy everyone had been talking about: Kiyoteru.

I’d never seen Kiyoteru in person. Apparently he was a busy man. And I suppose it was true; after all, he was the face behind one of the most successful record companies in Japan.

We all took a seat at the table, looking at the outlines for the meeting on a sheet of paper in front of us. It seemed like we had a lot to get through. I was less than thrilled.

The meeting started with a report on sales, profit, revenue, business, etc.—most of which I just tuned out for. I didn’t pay much attention because I knew absolutely nothing about any of those things, let alone the meanings of the words they used. That portion took up at least an hour, and by the end of it, I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

Much of the other Vocaloids seemed to be in the same position though, staring dazedly at their papers in front of them.

After a five minute break, we commenced the next part of the meeting: upcoming projects. Most of them did not apply to me, because—as Kiyoteru had quoted—“It’s better to ease you in rather than throw you in the deep end, hmm?” 

But there were a few new projects that I was involved in.

The first one, obviously, was my ‘comeback’, if that was what you could call it. Basically, they wanted to reintroduce me to fans and the like. The theme was something like ‘rebirth’, which was just rather ironic given _everything_ , and I could’ve sworn I saw Len scowling to himself in my peripheral.

First, I had to do a photoshoot for promotions and advertisement. Then, I had to do an interview for a magazine about my ‘hiatus’ (death, my _death_ , Kiyoteru). Apparently I would get coaching later on what to and not to say in the interview. That was not really a surprise to me. I knew they couldn’t really be transparent about my situation, given it was… kind of morally ambiguous, if you thought about it too hard.

After that, Kiyoteru mentioned I would be recording two new songs, two duets—one with Miku, and one with Len. Miku had clapped her hands in excitement over this announcement, but Len just sunk into his chair and looked as if he wanted the ceiling to cave in on him.

And really, I felt the same.

After the meeting finished—a whopping _five hours_ , much to everyone’s dismay—Len ran off somewhere almost immediately, while everyone else sort of lingered around to chat. Miku came bounding over to nudge me with an elbow, her eyes twinkling.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Excited?”

I frowned. Anything but excited, really. “I’m kind of terrified,” I admitted in a low voice. “And… doing a song with Len… I don’t know how that’s going to work out. He won’t even talk to me. He won’t even _look_ at me.” Well, without glaring, anyway.

Miku gave me a reassuring pat on my shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Len.” She said his name like it was something sour, waving a hand. “He’ll get over it. He _has_ to.”

The way she said it sounded kind of bitter, and it piqued curiosity in me. Before I could even _think_ about how the question would sound aloud, I asked, “Aren’t you two, like, dating or something?”

She blinked, surprised, taking a step back. Her hands went up to fiddle with an already perfect pigtail, and her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Oh. Um,” she stuttered, at a loss for words. Then she sighed, something sad in the way she held herself. “We’re… taking a break right now.”

“Ah.” This was awkward. This was _very_ awkward. Heat was rushing up to my cheeks, as I began regretting my words and this whole situation. “Sorry. It was rude of me to ask.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fine. It’s not really a secret, or anything.” She offered me a weak smile, before fluttering off to discuss something with Kaito. 

I slipped out into the hallway to be by myself, and leaned up against the wall, digging my palms into my sockets. I knew it was something I shouldn’t have said, let alone involved myself in. It was already complicated with what had happened with Rin before. I was just meddling in affairs that were none of my business.

And really, I didn’t care about Len and Miku’s relationship that much—whether they were dating or not. Realistically, I had no connection to it. Miku probably thought the same thing, as well.

I needed to be careful not to meddle, not to pry in things I had no involvement in. It was already bad enough that I was technically a stranger in their friend’s body.


End file.
